A
friend posted five things she was grateful for every day for a while on
Facebook and challenged others to do the same. The things ranged from the
mundane to the profound. A regular gratitude practice—even noticing the little
things--is supposed to make you feel better. It’s part of the restorative
benefits of meditation, yoga, and other spiritual pursuits.
For
many of the past 20 months since Noah’s suicide, I couldn’t face thinking about
the tiniest form of gratitude; it seemed absurd, almost offensive, in light of
the tragedy I was inhabiting. Grief and gratitude spring from such different
ground—the endless, arid desert plain of loss; the lush, verdant meadow of blessings.
I felt banished from the promised land. Gradually, gratitude crept
back in, first through noticing natural beauty, next through recognizing the
outpouring of love and support around me. But I saw these things from a
distance; I knew they were there, I knew they were good and were helping me,
but I couldn’t fully take in their presence.
The
pressure to declare one’s gratitude can be oppressive this time of year. Rabbi Yael Levy teaches that when we feel out of touch with gratitude, it’s OK to acknowledge
our grief and sadness in that moment. Maybe this is what Noah was doing at his
last Thanksgiving when, as our family and guests went around the table saying
something we were grateful for, he shook his head and said “pass.” At the time,
I was irritated with his disdainful refusal to participate. I couldn’t help
comparing him with our older son, who gave us thanks that year for
supporting his college education. Now that I know more about Noah’s situation—now
that I’ve been wrenched away from gratitude myself--I wonder if his mind was
already too agitated and despairing to feel anything else. For that, now, I
can forgive him.
I’m
still not ready to feel gratitude for Noah’s life and the years we had
together. Yet I know that’s where I need to go as part of acceptance and
forgiveness of his suicide. Finding a way back to gratitude is our task as
survivors if we are to integrate this loss and restore our lives.
What
am I truly grateful for in this moment? I am grateful to a young cousin who recently texted me a memory of Noah putting on a fake Yiddish accent, pinching her cheeks, and pretending to be a Jewish grandmother exclaiming over how much she had grown! I am grateful for the people in my life who listen, care,
and understand—including you who read this blog. I pour out my heart;
you take it to heart, and sometimes even tell me about it. Thank you so much. May each of you find your way to some glimpse
of gratitude this holiday season.